Untitled: An Autobiography
by TheTenaciousT
Summary: The dragonborn recalls past events as she writes about her life and accomplishments. We follow her tale from the beginning when she arrived at Helgen, to the very end. *Includes all DLC and features an endless list of our favorite characters.
1. Introduction

**Hellooooo Skyrim fans! I figured I'd go ahead and start this story with a couple of chapters and see whatcha thought of it. Reviews are highly encouraged! I need to know if this is any good or not.**

**This is a prequel/sequel to my first fic, _Aftermath. _I recommend you go read it first, but it won't hurt if you don't. If anything, it'll give you something to do until I update again. "Wait a minute, Tenacious T, how can this be a prequel AND a sequel at the same time?!" Funny you should ask. **

**The story will switch back and forth between the present and the past. Every section you see in italics is what she is writing present-day. If a section is not in italics, then it's a 'flash-back'. Make sense?**

**NOTE: There are SOME events that happen during present day, when she decides to take a break from writing. I know this sounds confusing, but fret not! It'll be clear if we are in the present or the past. Trust me.**

**Happy reading. :)**

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_Introduction_

_Before begin, I cannot be so arrogant to assume you know who I am. Most just call me Dragonborn. I honestly don't think half of Skyrim even knows my real name, so I'll tell you. My name is Terah Stoneheart and I am the Dragonborn of the Fourth Era. Slayer of Alduin._

_To say I've had an interesting life is an understatement. I started from the bottom, nothing but a refugee from Cyrodiil, sent for the chopping block the moment I crossed the border. I was there when Helgen burned to the ground and lived to tell about it. I, a mere healer at the time, trained with the honorable Companions and sought the life of a true Nord. I've been beaten, stabbed, clubbed, burned, and poisoned. I've spent time as an undead being, and have been to Oblivion and back (literally). I've spoken to Daedra, and was maniacally kissed by the Daedric Prince of Madness himself. _

_I walked the beautiful grounds of Sovngarde, and witnessed the glory it has to offer to the worthy. I traveled through time, broke the Greybeards' silence, and meditated with the very last snow elf in existence._

_Many have come to me and offered to write out my deeds, but no. I turned down every one of them, for others glorify me and exaggerate my abilities. This is my tale, and I am the only one fit to tell it. Forget what you have heard in the songs. Forget what you have been told by your kin. THIS is the real life of the dragonborn._

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**By the way, it's mostly backstory right now. Helgen doesn't start until Chapter 3. It's been posted already.**


	2. The Roots

**Warning: It gets a bit violent. I think it's safe to keep it rated T, though.**

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_The Roots_

_I had a family once. We were ridiculously poor and lived in a tiny house just outside of Bravil. Yep, Bravil. One of the worst cities to live in, if you ask me, but we got by. My family was rather irresponsible, but they were the most loving people I knew. My mother is Svira Stoneheart, a strong, stubborn Nord woman. Her blonde hair hung almost down to her hips, and her eyes were gray-blue. She was a blacksmith, and she taught me the basics at a very young age. My father, on the other hand, was quite the opposite. How they were even a married couple still baffles me to this day! He was a healer, and a damn good one too. His name is Maniel Stoneheart, and he was a Breton. He was short and muscular, and always had a full red beard. His appearance made him look tough and threatening, but this was not who he was at all. He was so gentle and kind. I loved him dearly, and he inspired me to follow in his footsteps as a healer myself. Lastly, I had one older sister, Tahni. She looked just like me, except that she was tall and had bright copper hair and brown eyes, like my father. That girl was quite the bard! She could play both the flute and the lute, and had a voice so beautiful it made my heart ache. I would sometimes play a drum or two with her at a local inn on occasion, just for fun. Although she inherited my mother's fiery stubbornness, my sister was the world to me._

_But my mother's stubbornness caught up to her, and it ended up being her demise. OUR demise. My mother was a devout worshipper of Talos, as well as the other eight divines. She refused to give up her god, despite the Thalmor cracking down on Cyrodil. My father warned her time and time again that the Thalmor would find out and discover us, but she insisted that she was being secretive enough._

_She was wrong. It was a terrible, terrible day._

_I had gone hunting for us, and I usually ventured far from home when I did so. I didn't return until dusk that night. It didn't take much for me to realize what had happened; smoke filled the air and rose so high that it could be seen miles away, and I knew exactly where it was coming from. I can still remember the panic that sunk into my chest. I ran as fast as I could, desperately hoping that I would arrive in time. Desperately hoping no one was trapped inside. And I wish I hadn't._

_I arrived to see my home covered in flames, but this was nothing compared to what I saw on the fence posts in front of it. Three heads, all lined in a row. I still remember the order in which they were stuck on the posts: Father, Mother, Sister. And I still remember the look on their lifeless faces._

_I'm not sure how the Thalmor didn't notice me emerge from the bushes, and I really didn't care at the moment. I was such an innocent and peaceful young girl. I had never seen such death in my life. And to see my family, my world, so viciously murdered and disgraced like that. . . the feeling was indescribable. The Thalmor knew that there was another daughter. Another Stoneheart. I remember a cold, slippery voice order the others, "Find her!"_

_So I ran. I ran faster than I ever have in my life, and I didn't stop until I completely collapsed from exhaustion. I had no clue where I was and couldn't risk anyone finding me, so I took shelter in a small cave that I had found. There was no time to mourn, and I knew that. I needed to survive._

_The cave, however, was occupied. A young Altmer in rags had appeared from the shadows, concerned about my exhausted state. I nearly killed him on the spot, of course, but he quickly clarified that he was not Thalmor. He was actually going to be initiated as one of them, but he refused, and was now on the run because of it. The Thalmor didn't take such things lightly. _

_The elf's name was Carenen. The irony of the situation almost made me laugh. He was strangely kind and saw me as his equal, not as some inferior being. Underneath all of the filth and messy dark hair, he was rather handsome, too._

"Are you alright?"

"Stay away from me, elf!" Terah yelled, her short blonde hair wildly framing her face. Keeping her dagger out in front of her, she warned, "I won't hesitate to kill you, _Thalmor scum_!"

"Whoa, Whoa. Relax," said the Altmer, holding his hands up in defense. "I'm definitely not Thalmor. Quite the opposite, in fact."

Terah wasn't buying it.

The young high elf slowly moved backwards toward a large sack on the ground behind him. "Trust me," he assured her. Slowly, he withdrew a bottle and an apple from the sack, and cautiously approached the frightened little Nord. "It's water, see?" He took a swig of the liquid substance to prove that it was harmless. "Take it. I think you could use it more than I."

After a few hesitant moments, Terah finally accepted the offer, dagger still in hand. She took a small sip just to be sure, and proceeded to gulp the entire bottle down in seconds, never realizing how dehydrated she really was. When she finished, she bashfully handed the bottle back to the kind young elf. "Thank you."

He giggled, "It isn't a problem. Come, sit. You should rest." He beckoned towards a wood pile he had placed near the back of the cave. Terah jumped back in alarm when he blasted the wood with a flames spell. "Relax. I'm not going to hurt you."

The Altmer extended an arm towards her, offering her his hand. Terah stared at it for a moment, still not sure of the kind stranger. After some evaluation of his demeanor and his soft facial expression, she gingerly placed her hand in his.

"That's it. Come on now." He sat her next to him on some torn cloth, a small smile on his face. "You look exhausted. I'm not sure what the Thalmor -"

"_Don't_," she spat through gritted teeth, "say that word. Ever. I don't wanna hear it ever again."

He cast his eyes down solemnly. "As you wish." They sat in awkward silence. Nothing could be heard but the crackling fire and the crunch of the apple that she had started to heartily eat. When she finished, he piped, "My name is Carenen."

She wasn't interested.

"I ran away from the. . . well, from them too. My father has been a member since I could remember. He pressured me to be initiated as one of _them_," he said in disgust. "But I don't believe in their philosophy. Their ways go against my peaceful nature."

Silence.

"Will you tell me your name?"

More silence.

Carenen sighed, "Well, I'm here when you're ready to talk."

"Terah," she said coarsely. The Nord shot a nervous glance at the elf and cleared her throat, "My name is Terah."

"Pretty name," he smiled. He turned away from her and grabbed the small wash bin next to him. Dipping a small cloth in the water, he insisted, "Here, let me help wash your face."

She didn't want him to, but her body was too drained to protest. He held her chin in his hand as he slowly wiped away the dirt and tear stains from her fair face. Terah took advantage of their close proximity and studied his face. His dark, messy hair hung freely down to his shoulders, the trademark pointy ears poking out of his locks. Under a layer of dirt, she noted how flawless his olive-green skin was, besides one long scar down his right cheek. And his eyes. His eyes were the brightest shade of emerald she had ever seen.

"Have you never seen an Altmer before?"

Terah nearly jumped in embarrassment, a blush creeping up on her cheeks. Why did she have to be so awkward?

He only laughed, "You're like a scared little doe."

Avoiding her embarrassment, Terah replied, "I noticed that scar on your cheek. I can heal it, if you like."

He subconsciously placed a hand on his cheek. "This? Oh no, I've had it healed already before. It's the best they can do."

"Well their best isn't the same as mine." Terah gingerly placed a hand on his cheek. Closing her eyes, she allowed her magicka to flow through her body and into her palm, concentrating on the thin scar. "How did you get this?" she asked softly.

"My father backhanded me some time back."

"Ah, I see," she replied understandingly. Soon enough, her job was complete. She found much joy in demonstrating her restoration talents to others.

Carenen leaned into the wash bin, admiring his reflection in the water. "Wow, I'm impressed," he said, sounding pleased. "You wouldn't even know it was there."

She shrugged, "I want to be a healer."

"An honorable aspiration," he commended. "You're not like most Nords, you know."

She smiled sheepishly at him, "You're certainly not like most Altmer."

_I guess you could say I've always had a thing for mer. Our time together was short, but he grew on me. The Thalmor were openly welcome in Cyrodiil, and we knew we wouldn't last in hiding, so we constructed a plan to flee to Skyrim. I was thrilled; I hadn't been to Skyrim since I was just a small child. I barely even remembered it. All I knew was that my family and I lived in The Rift where income was low and crime rates were high. A couple years after I was born, we packed up and moved south to Cyrodiil for more "opportunity." That was a bust. Bravil wasn't much different than Riften._

_It took DAYS, maybe even a week or two, for us to reach the border. We had to sneak around and hide in unspeakable places until it was clear to travel some more, which hindered our progress. Finally, when we reached the northern region of Cyrodiil, we found our nightmare; Thalmor were heavily guarding the border. The only way to get through was to use the element of surprise. We had to be quick and light on our feet, or a most unpleasant death would be inevitable. We camped up for the rest of the evening and waited until nightfall to make our move._

_To save the gruesome details, I made it to Skyrim. Carenen did not._

* * *

The refugees stared at the marks carved in the dirt, taking the time to analyze their strategy.

"Are you sure this will work?" Terah asked.

The tall elf sighed, "It's the best we can do. Not that we even have much of a choice."

Her heart sank in her chest. "I guess you have a point." She did not feel good about this one bit.

"Let's have some supper one last time, shall we?" he asked, trying to be encouraging. "Then it'll be just you and me. A new life."

"A new beginning," she added hopefully.

He smiled down at her. Altmer were tall, but Carenen towered over Terah. She was also rather short for a Nord. The elf took a deep breath, "And if we don't make it. . ."

Terah's social awkwardness was starting to show again when he bent over and met his lips with hers. They were rough, mainly due to the not-so-ideal lifestyle they had been living. Despite that, however, he kissed her very tenderly. Unsure what to do, she just stood there and shyly kissed him back, enjoying how his long fingers trailed lightly over her face.

He pulled away and softly smiled down at her. She smiled back. It had been her first kiss.

* * *

She crept silently amongst the thick branches of the trees, keeping an eye on her companion just across the road. They had managed to sneak by the imperial guards, but getting past the Thalmor would undoubtedly be incredibly and dangerously difficult. There was no way they could stand a fight against them.

They soon ran out of trees to climb and clamber amongst. Carenen spotted an opportunity and signaled Terah to follow his lead. An imperial soldier with his wagon of supplies was preparing to pass through the gate, and there were surprisingly few guards near him. Without words, Terah knew that they would hide there and prayed to the divines that they wouldn't get caught. Carenen slipped in first, then helped Terah clamber in behind him. They buried themselves underneath as many items as they could, and cloaked everything underneath a large, torn cloth. The wagon moved forward for some time, then stopped.

"_Halt."_ It was an unmistakable voice of a Thalmor soldier. "What are you taking with you in the back?"

"Oh, please," scoffed the soldier. "Just some supplies for the legion in Skyrim. Letters, food, books, parchment. . . little bit of everything. What's it to you?"

"What's it to _us_?" the elf spat. "So ignorant. Search the wagon."

"Come on, I'm getting tired of this nonsense! The legion is on your side!"

Terah's heart stopped in her chest. She felt her friend stiffen with fear as well. Neither of them took a single breath as the goods surrounding them were shuffled and moved around. A pause. . .

What happened next was so fast and shocking, it could've easily been mistaken as a nightmare.

"AHHHH!" Carenen screamed as a Thalmor solder dragged him out by his feet, immediately slicing the backs of his heels.

"Let's see you try to run! Ha!"

Of course, he did try to run, and he sadly collapsed back onto the dirt in agony as his feet were nearly ripped off by his ankles from his own body weight. "_YOU MONSTERS_!" he screamed.

Carenen's absence left Terah fully exposed, so she bolted out of that wagon faster than she thought was humanly possible. She had to escape. She would not fall to the Thalmor.

"Get that girl!" Terah glanced behind her just in time to see a soldier grab her friend by the hair and begin to saw away at is throat with his elven blade. She turned away in horror, only to slam into a set of green armor, caught in the arms of another elven monster.

His evil, golden eyes seemed to pierced through her very soul as he snarled down at her. "Die, filth!"

But she would have none of it. She wiggled free enough to jam her small thumbs into the demon's evil eyes; anything to stop him from shattering her will with his towering gaze. Then, she called upon a spell that she only managed to pull off once. Apparently, it worked; his face grew pale and his mouth turned blue as frostbite escaped from her fingertips, passing through his eyes and into his skull. She very well might have frozen his brain solid.

Terah threw the lifeless body down beside her, full of rage, and took off toward Skyrim. Several arrows whizzed by her, but she wasn't keeping count. Who knows how far they chased after her. She ran and ran and _ran _until she could run no more. Her small, fragile body collapsed onto some soft grass. Some smoke could be spotted in the distance not very far from her. Perhaps they were Nords. Perhaps they could help her. She pathetically crawled across the grass, partly ecstatic to be breathing in the cool, crisp air of Skyrim. Her vision was beginning to fade. . .

A woman's voice rung in her ears. She didn't know whether to be startled or relieved. The woman spoke again. That accent! It was Nordic! It must've been enough comfort and security for Terah, because that was when she allowed herself to finally lose consciousness.

_The gods must have been watching over me. There was no way a young, unarmed girl could escape the Thalmor without divine intervention. Needless to say, I was rather scarred by my last few weeks in Cyrodiil. _

_I was 17 then._

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**Hopefully you are following this alright. If you have any tips or advice, please send them my way!**


	3. Helgen

*****UPDATE: This chapter has been updated with the events of Helgen. I hate to rewrite this scene knowing that we've all been through it a MILLION TIMES, but I gotta. It's definitely important to include it, I think. It's a pivotal point in the dragonborn's life, so of course she is going to write about it.**

**This is the last chapter I have available, for the moment. I just wanted to get this story started, since I'm still working on _Aftermath_. **

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"Help me out here, Teldryn," said Terah, gnawing on her quill. "I need to come up with a title for this."

The sweaty Dunmer only grunted at her as he continued to haul chunks of iron ore to the smelter. Adrianne had given them permission to use her smelter and forge while they were still visiting in Whiterun. The little Nord had been sitting on the stone bridge wall as she wrote about her roots and what brought her to Skyrim in the first place.

Noticing that he was ignoring her, she threw her quill at him. "Teldryn!"

"What?" he barked. "As if I'm going to be any help. Actually, _you_ should be helping _me_. I'm doing all the hard work here."

"Okay you're right," she admitted as she stood up to go pick up her quill. "But I still need help picking a title for my autobiography."

His brows furrowed, "I didn't think you'd actually start writing it, to be honest. Who was that fellow from Windhelm who kept pestering you? Anododo? No. . ."

She snorted with laughter. "Adonato Leotelli, yes," she corrected, still chuckling. "The writer. Don't care much for him, though."

"You don't care much for anyone."

"Can you blame me?" she retorted.

He smirked, "I suppose not."

A strong, gray arm snaked around Terah's waist, but she playfully slapped it away. "Come on, Tel. You know how I feel about public display of affection!"

"I know. And I don't care."

"Piss off," she teased, shoving him away. Her expression quickly turned serious when she glanced back down at the pages in her hands.

Sensing her troubled mood, he adapted with concern, "What's wrong, sera?"

"Nothing, I'm alright. . ." she struggled with words. "It's just. . . Helgen. It seemed like so long ago. That's where it all started. I don't know. Writing about all of this has been. . . difficult, I suppose."

"Then don't write it," he said kindly. "I dislike seeing you depressed. If this is too hard for you -"

"No, it's not _too_ hard," she corrected.

"Right, because you can take on anything."

"That's correct."

All he could do was shake his head and grin. Oh, how crazy he was about this woman.

"But seriously," she continued. "Sometimes I wonder what my life would've been like if I was still living in Cyrodiil. How odd it is to think of living a peaceful, average life. A life where I work in a temple healing skeaver bites and curing food poisoning. One where I live on to marry a bard."

Teldryn barked a laugh, "You weren't meant for a life like that! You were meant for great things. After all, it was your destiny. Your dragon blood would have revealed itself one way or another."

"I suppose," she sighed.

He smirked, "If it's a bard you want, I can do that for you. I'll be the best damn bard to ever grace your ears."

"Oh dear gods, not here Teldryn -"

"OHHHHHHHH THERE ONCE WAS A HERO NAMED RAGNAR THE RED WHO- bah, I don't even know the words!"

Terah was bursting with laughter, "You're terrible!" Even the Whiterun guards by the main gate were chuckling underneath their helmets.

"Wretched song," he snarled.

"Hey, it's a classic!" Terah giggled.

"I have yet to completely understand you Nords," he said endearingly. Taking a small, pale hand in his, he encouraged her, "Go on, write your book. I'll try not to be too distracting with my good looks."

She smiled, "Thank you, Teldryn." After making herself comfortable, she grabbed her quill and began to write.

* * *

_Helgen_

_I must have been out for days, because when I finally regained consciousness I found myself on a carriage with three other men.__ We each had our hands tied in front of us, and the man beside me was gagged. I noted imperial soldiers on horses behind us as well as an imperial soldier guiding the carriage we were on. How did I end up here? Did they know I was a refugee? Are they going to send me back to Cyrodiil, turn me in to the Thalmor? Where is that woman I heard?_

_A thickly accented voice pierced through my thousands of questions, "Hey! You! You're finally awake!" The voice belonged to the man across from me who wore an armored uniform I was not familiar with. He was a kind comfort in sharp contrast to the cowardly fool who sat beside him, and he offered an explanation to how we were all put in this unfortunate situation. Apparently, I was in the company of a Stormcloak soldier, a horse thief from Rorikstead, and ULFRIC STORMCLOAK HIMSELF. The very man sat beside me, the one who was gagged; the precaution was taken so he could not Shout at his captors. We had been caught in an imperial ambush, and the thief and I were assumed to be spies of some sort. It seemed luck was not on my side. _

_I can still remember the kind soldier's words, "Hey, what village are you from, horse thief?"_

_The thief replied pathetically, "Why do you care?!"_

_"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home."_

_The events of the civil war in Skyrim had reached ears in Cyrodiil, but I truthfully was not aware of the details at the time. All I knew was that it involved the worship of Talos, or lack thereof, and the Stormcloak soldier sitting across from me seemed to believe that Ulfric was the true high kind of Skyrim. I can attest to the popular opinion that just about anything that defies the Thalmor is a noble and worthy cause, and sure, I agree that people should be allowed to worship who they choose. However, I was not so quick to side with the 'true sons and daughters of Skyrim.' I was young and uninterested in politics at the time._

_The carriage then entered into Helgen where many more imperials were waiting for us. Waiting for Ulfric Stormcloak, that is. The kind soldier seemed to accept his fate that this was the end of the line for him. For all of us. He spoke softly of fond memories, which brought me comfort. He spoke of a girl he was sweet on who was from Helgen, who made her own mead with juniper berries in it. I focused on his memories, for mine were too painful to rely on in that moment. Thinking about the past, about home, only reminded me of how much I lost. My family was dead, and I would soon be dead with them. I supposed that was a comfort in itself._

_Finally, the carriage came to a halt. We each filed out as an imperial soldier called out our names._

_"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm."_

_The jarl stepped forward in long strides, standing tall, showing no sign of fear or defeat._

_"Ralof of Riverwood."_

_The kind soldier shot me a quick, comforting smile as he calmly stepped forward. _Ralof_. I couldn't say I knew him, yet I knew he was a good man and a true warrior. He resonated with it. Ralof was what I thought to be a true Nord, a true son of Skyrim. Surely Sovngarde awaited him._

_"Lokir of Rorikstead."_

_The horse thief begged and plead that they had they wrong man, and that he was no Stormcloak soldier. The man then took off at a full run, hands still bound, and was shot down by archers within seconds. A sad fate for such a fool._

_The imperial did not know what to call me, for I was not on his list. Big surprise there. I introduced myself, but I could not recognize the sound of my own voice. It sounded so even, so strong. One thing I learned in that moment was that I certainly knew how to stay calm in deadly situations. The imperial soldier seemed like an average man, and I could tell from the way he looked at me that he believed me innocent. I was obviously no soldier; I wore nothing but dirty rags that hung loosely on my petite frame, and foot wraps were all that gave my feet protection. The tips of my short, golden hair barely touched my shoulders and hung in knots that framed my round face. My grey-blue eyes were surely a sharp contrast to the dirt and grime that covered my pale face. I was admittedly shorter than the average Nord (and sadly, still have not grown an inch taller to this day) and certainly lacked the physical intimidation._

_When the imperial asked his captain what to do with me, seeing that I was no Stormcloak, the captain harshly replied, "Forget the list. Send her to the block!"_

_My blood boiled. For a brief moment, I was given hope that I might be allowed to live and be let go. I was shown that another human being was capable of _logic_ and _reason,_ only to have that notion shot down by a barbarous imperial bitch._

_General Tullius was present, though I did not know who he was at the time. I watched as he scorned Ulfric and his crimes. What I'll never forget, however, is the faint sound that could be heard in the distance. A very _large_ sound. Other's noticed it too, but paid no mind._

_The first Stormcloak soldier to be executed had chestnut red hair similar to the color of my sister's. I tried not to focus on that too much. That man was rather bold, to put it mildly, almost enthusiastic about meeting his death. The headsman rose his axe above his head and brought it down with a "thump!" silencing the man's stream of insults. I looked away._

_I was called next. But that sound! It came again! A faint echo in the distance. Imperials and Stormcloaks alike looked up into the sky, searching for the source. Once again, it was dismissed._

_My body seemed to carry itself forward to the block. This was it. This was how I thought I would die, and there was nothing I could do about it. I fell to my knees and laid my head upon the block, trying not to cringe from the feeling of warm blood on my neck and cheek. Red hair was inches from my face. My head would soon join the bloody, lifeless on in the box just below me. The headman raised his axe above his head._

_Then, I saw it. What was I seeing? My question was answered when a large, black creature landed heavily on top of the tower just behind the headsman. The ground quaked under the sudden weight, and the headsman disappeared from my sight. IT WAS A DRAGON._

_Thunder, booming loud. A strong force knocked me over. Fire rained from the darkened sky. Helgen had erupted into pure, raw chaos._

_"Come on, kinsman! The gods won't give us another chance!"_

_Ralof firmly gripped my arm and nearly dragged me away from the block into the opposite tower. Other Stormcloak soldiers had found refuge there was well, in a frenzy about how dragons were supposed to be only legends. Once I got onto my feet, I was startled to find Ulfric Stormcloak before me, unbound and ungagged. _

_Ulfric was a sight to see. He was remarkably tall as he towered over me, and everything about him had the look of a hardy Nord: strong build, long blond hair with braids, a full goatee, and steely blue eyes. His baritone seemed to vibrate in my chest when I heard him speak for the first time, "Legends don't burn down villages."_

_Ralof guided me through the chaos, but we got separated. I then stumbled into the company of the logical imperial soldier. He was protecting a young boy and who I assumed to be his grandfather. The imperial took me under his wing and protected me, for my hands were still bound and I was highly vulnerable. As we ran for the Helgen Keep, we crossed paths with Ralof, who I was relieved to see was still alive. The two seemed to know each other; they were a prime example of how war can tear friends, even brothers, apart. The imperial kept a firm grip on my arm as he yanked me through the doors of the keep, and we escaped together._

_His name is Hadvar, and he is still alive and well, as is Ralof. He escorted me to Riverwood to seek refuge with his uncle. Hadvar showed me more kindness than any imperial soldier ever has, and I will forever be grateful to his family for opening up their home to me._

_Ralof had fled to Riverwood as well, and the encounter between the opposing soldiers was nothing short of intense and heartbreaking. The two had grown up together in Riverwood, only to be separated by war. A sad example indeed, yet they managed to agree to be on neutral ground, seeing that they had just survived a gods damned dragon attack. The seriousness and uncertainty of the situation was far more important than their differences, so they set them aside, albeit temporary. That alone gave me an ounce of hope._

_I cannot say how I remember so much about that day. I know I'll never forget the events of Helgen. The memory still stays so vivid, haunts my dreams. I learned a strong lesson of war from the Riverwood brothers-in-opposing-arms, and had survived my first encounter with Alduin. Yes, the dragon who destroyed Helgen was Alduin himself. I know not why he appeared when he did, or why he appeared there at all. I remember he seemed to look at me, to Shout directly at me. Perhaps he knew I was dragonborn and wanted to meet me, to challenge me or simply speak with me. Ironically, Alduin saved my life that day._

_I returned to Helgen some years later as part of the healing process. The place had been overrun by bandits, but I had no trouble clearing them out with aid. Most of the place had been destroyed, but some structure held up and some barrels and crates were still around. In one particular barrel, I was astonished to find two bottles of mead with juniper berries in it. One bottle I drank upon the very tower which the black dragon landed. In combination with the view and the crisp breeze fluttering across my face, the sweet succulence seemed to wash away the plethora of heavy emotions that chained me to that place. The other bottle I kept in my stores, and I plan to never drink it._

* * *

**Terah is serious, you know. Help her come up with a title for her autobiography! (seriously, I need help) **

**There will be much less italic sections in the future. Sometimes I'll write full chapters just of past memories, so it won't be so boring, heh.**

**Lemme know whatcha think. :)**


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